


Hidden behind all the noise cause the pigpiss shouldn't ever know

by the_empty_pen



Category: Chaos Walking - Patrick Ness
Genre: M/M, One Sided Love, Pining, davy's pov, i have feelings listen-, internalized homophobia inbetween, pigpiss x edgy neglected son, really subtle mentions of sex I guess? really subtle., the book (tm), written after vol 2 because man I have feelings, your usual angst from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_empty_pen/pseuds/the_empty_pen
Summary: No. That ain’t the truth, actually. He’s not like that anymore. I used to be the violent one, shooting his girl, shooting his pa, but now he’s there screaming at the Spackle and numbering women and even I know that’s wrong. So wrong that I feel sick sometimes and I know he can sense that discomfort and I know Pa can sense it too and he thinks I’m a coward or a weakling or both.
Relationships: David Prentiss & Davy Prentiss Jr, Todd Hewitt & Davy Prentiss Jr, Todd Hewitt/Davy Prentiss Jr.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Hidden behind all the noise cause the pigpiss shouldn't ever know

**Author's Note:**

> Look. Don't spoil me for volume 3. please. (u can do it like, next week or sth cause I'll most probably have read it by then so yeh.)
> 
> And jsut.  
> I had lots of feelings about Davy. In the beginning I hated him so much but then during the course of book 2 I started loving him (cause I'm an angsty bastard loving boy, as my twt mutu says) because of how complex he is as a character and how well-written he is and (insert a long sigh here) I just. Yeah. I just started shipping him with Todd and couldn't help myself because I was absolutely heartbroken after volume 2 and I think this explains this very well.
> 
> Also adapting a little to Ness' style was a ton of fun, just so you know.

I don’t know why I’m doing this.  
I have no effing clue as to why this idea popped up in my head because really, I’m not s’posed to do this at all. This goes far beyond my standards. If I ever had them, that is. Not so sure of that nowadays, not anymore, not after Todd bloody Hewitt and all the absolute shit he pulled with me.  
I’m aware, I know, I know.

Not his fault at all.

My noise must be roaring and I know all the people who walk by are looking strange at me, but I don’t care, I don’t think I can, really.  
Todd effing Hewitt.

Effing.

That already says more about what he’s done to me than anything else does and it pisses me the eff off. Pisses, yeah, the next good word. Pisspig. I don’t even call him that anymore, he’s become Todd, Todd, it’s become Todd and Todd and Todd for me.

My only friend. My only friend whose father I’ve-

I suppress it before the image can rise in my head, in my noise, in the outer world for everyone to see. That ain’t a thing for people to see, not at all.

That freaking tender pisspig and I’m doing this effing stupid thing for him and it’s heavy in my hand, heavier than it looks but that’s just what it is – pages and pages and pages and writing and he can’t even _read_ , that stupid pisspig.  
Yeah, that nickname does sound good in my mind. Better than stupid _Todd_.

I ain’t on his mind like he’s on mine and that, that’s a truth I never wanted to admit either. But there ain’t a way around it, is there? I can hide it with him. That’s all I ever do anyways. Hide it and hide it and hide everything behind layers of other noise about food and violence and guns and pistols and women and everything but Ben and Todd.

The book really is heavy. My pa wouldn’t appreciate me doing that and I know that. But what’s he done for me anyways? Nothing, I think. It’s not only Todd for me, but also Todd for Pa and I’ve noticed. I’m not the cleverest guy and I know that, I know all of that stupid effing shit but I also know I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks I am. 

I think.

I tried reading some of her writing. Some pages. About Todd. About him as a baby. He’s no different now, is he? Tender and soft at heart and with the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen in my short life and the brightest smile on his stupid face.

No. That ain’t the truth, actually. He’s not like that anymore. I used to be the violent one, shooting his girl, shooting his pa, but now he’s there screaming at the Spackle and numbering women and even I know that’s wrong. So wrong that I feel sick sometimes and I know he can sense that discomfort and I know Pa can sense it too and he thinks I’m a coward or a weakling or both.

I clench my fist, taking in a deep breath as I arrive somewhere in front of the door. I don’t know why I’m doing this for him. He’s Hewitt. Todd bloody Hewitt whom I should hate so much but I consider him my friend even though he’s empty now and he’s a circle or whatever he says, just another stupid doll of-

I daren’t end this thought. I’m not s’posed to think that way. He’s my pa. Todd is Todd.

My friend.

I go up the stairs. Many of them. So many that my feet would’ve hurt if I wasn’t used to marching or running or commanding Spackles around like cattle.

He ain’t the same.

That’s why I’m doing this, right? That’s the exact reason for it. Because I want him to go back to how he was. That’s why my fingers on the stupid effing book are trembling and clutching onto the rough cover harder than I should, feeling the clean cut with the bit of crusty blood right beneath them, that’s why I’m carrying it around and around almost the entire time.

I just want him to go back to who he was. I hate to admit it, but it’s the case. Great, Davy, Davy Prentiss Jr voluntarily returning an effing book to a guy he considers his friend who also’s got beautiful eyes.

Other thoughts I have to hide. Not good at all, not good for anyone to see and I’m surprised my pa’s never mentioned it before. I hide them beneath women and more women and some of ‘em naked and some of ‘em in skirts like I’ve seen them in other men’s noise. That ain’t me. That never was me and never will be me and I hate it and I know it’s disgusting.

It was easy to ignore, really, then came pigpiss Todd and Viola Viola Viola Viola all over his noise and something inside of me decided that it was him I should-

I stop the thought when I realize I’m almost there. There ain’t any guards, course not, why would there be? Todd has his own key. He can come and go as pleased, now that he’s so empty and dead inside and now that he’s the circle and the circle is him.   
There’s the door.

Time to bury all my noise again and never let it see the light of day again, not in front of him, not ever, not once or else I’ll be completely effed by everything.

Viola.

Not me.   
It will never be me and it never was me it’s all Todd for me and all Todd for Pa and all Viola for Todd.

There ain’t no place in his head for-

I’m burying those thoughts behind the shame I feel about them. That’s enough. I’ve just got this stupid book to return. An act of kindness. Tenderness. Just like the tender pigpiss was himself once.

It seems like long ago.

I raise my hand then let it drop then raise it again to eventually knock on the door and I hear the sound in my head and I hear his noise sparking up because I’d recognize it anywhere and-

Even more shame. 

Ledger mutters something. Great, that shitty excuse of a mayor is there too, ready to witness the most stupid thing I’ve done in my life or rather I’m going to do in my life.

He mutters something. Todd. Pigpiss. Effing fucking Hewitt.

There, fucking. I’ve thought it, finally, a thought of my own that isn’t influenced by-

The key turns in the hole and I hold my breath. The door opens. I daren’t look at him. Not anymore not ever again not when I’m standing in front of him with his Ma’s book in my hands holding it partly behind my back and his noise still being empty and barely reacting and then the tiniest spark of confusion and then anger and then annoyance about his damned boots when I’m literally right in front of him holding this stupid effing book about how soft and tender he-

Hiding it behind nervousness, this time. Because I am. My throat’s dry when my eyes meet his for the shortest second when he tells me that it’ll take a minute and says some shit about his horse and I keep avoiding his gaze because that ain’t why I’m here that ain’t it at all I’m here for something entirely different and it’s in my hand.

And my throat’s dry. And there’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’d rather not identify or think about it when my noise is right there and Ledger’s in the background whose noise is mocking me, so clearly mocking me even though he handed over his town without any resistance for Pa.

“ _What_?”, he says, and I’m embarrassed I’m so embarrassed about the entire situation my cheeks grow hot and warm and and and and

I have no idea what I’m doing, really.

What am I thinking? There ain’t any explanation for it and I don’t know I really effing don’t know what I’m doing and I’m so embarrassed for having to suppress a smile at him and then it hits me, it hits me that this is Todd bloody fucking Hewitt and I hide that thought but my next thought is that I’m guilty and I’m sorry and I’m so so so sorry for what I’ve done to.

I cover up any thoughts about his Pa through whom I fired a bullet as if it were nothing just like I did to the girl he loves.

I try to pretend that he pisses me off but really, I piss off myself and my cheeks are burning by now. It’s ok, I try to tell myself but I know it ain’t ok at all.

“Effing pigpiss.”

The fucking bag on my shoulder with the effing book in it with my effing hand on it and I held it over the floor of the bag to feel-

And I held it over the floor of the bag instead of just letting it be there with all its crusty Spackle blood and human blood and probably Aaron’s fingerprints on it, right? I saw that in his noise a few times at work. I could’ve carried it in the bag but no instead I decided to hold it in my hand in the bag and I feel so effing stupid for having done that that I get my hand out of it and pull on strap on my shoulder as angry as I somewhat can and I can’t suppress what I’m going to say again.

“Effing…”

Effing stupid Todd Hewitt who’s way more tender than I’ll ever be, effing stupid Todd Hewitt who’s got blazing eyes and a shining smile when he does it and it’s not often cause she’s not here and she left him and effing stupid Todd Hewitt who only ever thinks about Viola Viola Viola even though I’m right there.

I hide it. Like I’m s’posed to because nobody can ever learn of the shit I’ve thought about boys and men and him specifically.

I unsnap the flap even though I could’ve gotten the book out of my bag with my hand, I take it out and see how his noise is so utterly confused and trying to analyse me but he ain’t succeeding just like I ain’t succeeding at understanding it myself except for the one part I’m sure of about him and-

(shut up)

“ _Here_ ”, I shout and thrust the stupid effing book at him to get rid of it and of my shame but it ain’t happening and I feel even worse than before and for a moment there’s a spark in his noise overpowering the emptiness and all the circle shit and I think that really, _I_ might be the pigpiss here and not him.

He looks at it when he slowly reaches out for it and there’s surprise and it glows almost yellow (almost like actual pigpiss) and I don’t know what else and I scream to overpower my own thoughts.

“Just take it!”

He takes it. Looks at it some more. Thinks of the knife and takes it like something precious and looks at it some fucking more and I don’t think I can take it.

I can’t take any of it when he looks up and I see it from the corner of his eyes but there ain’t no way I’m going to look at him or his eyes or-

(his stupidly beautiful eyes that would swallow me and he’d discover things about me he’d rather not know and that I’d rather not have him knowing about me, things hidden behind women and some naked women and Ben and pain and my Pa and the feeling of always being inferior to him no matter where I look at. His stupidly beautiful eyes which would make me think this one effing thing I can’t possibly have him know-)

“Whatever”, I spit out, I turn and practically run away from him so that he can’t hear my noise anymore so that I can think this one fucking thing bubbling up inside of me and wetting my freaking eyes and effing- fucking my heart and everything in my entire life cause I know there’s Viola and-

I love you.


End file.
